


Just One Little Childish Mistake

by uragani



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Freestyle Rap, Impaired Judgement, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, POV First Person, Rape, Rape Aftermath, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sibling Incest, Statutory Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uragani/pseuds/uragani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanted to be by his side forever, a constant companion until the fucking bones of our bodies turned to dust." Dave finally gives in against pressure and tells John what happened when he was a kid, that made Bro so quiet and avoidant of him while still being an outgoing caretaker. This story focuses on Bro going downhill after the loss of a good friend, and Dave's mistake trying to get close to him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Little Childish Mistake

A long time ago all I had was Bro. The world began and ended with him, and that was it, all of it. I remember waking up when I was three screaming because of a nightmare and there he was, and he made it go away. He made everything bad into a joke, something to laugh about. Made the world close down so tight it was just the two of us. He introduced me to music, and it was ours. It was in our bones so deep I could feel the music pulsing long after I turned it off for the night, or after the neighbors yelled. I didn't want shit but him. I met people yeah, and I tried dating around but when you have a connection so fucking deep like that... like you could burn up in how hot and bright the connection is you can't fucking see anything else. We strifed so much, the clashing of swords were our voices rising up on the dusty old building tops, screaming out songs to the hot aridness of the Texan landscape. We ate together, worked together, fought together, slept-- when I had nightmares he didn't ask twice before he let me in his bed up til I was old enough they had to be really bad for him to do it. Because he wanted me to get older, get mature. He wanted to give me a hand up in the world by putting my mind on the fast track when so many others fell behind.

I wanted to be by his side forever, a constant companion until the fucking bones of our bodies turned to dust. I worshiped the ground he walked on, and just wanted... anything. We were open, always. Irony we spoke, like words in and out of rhyme. You could taste the way he felt, in the way his shoulders angled, his spine. The glasses did nothing to hide what was on his mind and I struggled to be like that. To be able to understand the speaking of his soul when the world wasn't so great. When everyone else seemed to be stuck on the cold nature of his outer levels of irony so thick, that nothing could match them but mine. Mine, I was getting closer and closer to that fit that he had, the big angry guy trying to be my Dad and I needed his moments he shared with me like nothing else. Never anything else.

And he got his jobs and I stayed at home, and I never let out that he left me alone because if I did the child support could come calling. If they took me away, I'd bust down and there would be nothing left but air shrieking along the caverns and I wouldn't live John. I wouldn't be alive, I'd be so far gone. I'd have died without my Bro. So he went out and did his thing, and played music for the crowds. The beats would thrum, and maybe he'd sing, and the world came down to the clubs. I missed him, that was a thing he had to deal with, but we were cool and it worked out great for a while until he started getting into some trouble. Like he lost someone or something. Not very bad stuff, but some sort of resentment, this deep set anger at the world that rose in him. I could see it like the shadow of a dark bird looking down on everything. I think that was the summer the crows started gathering around our house.

And he started drinking, and it was pretty bad. Not for me, but him. He looked so tired and mad all the time and I just wanted to give him somewhere to come home too. He rejected the notion and kept up with his motions of being an asshole and staying out of the way so I never really saw him during the day while he slept away everything that mattered and at night he slammed back to the clubs and I could tell it was dragging him down. I had to make my own lunch, and head out for school and we'd barely talk and I was losing him, losing myself, losing my cool.

Then one night he came home drunk as hell. He figured he'd hide himself alone in his room and put up that damned shell he was building to keep me out, but he must've been worse than he thought. I was watching him in my doorway and he was confused for a second but so blurry and sleepy he just sidled into my room instead. I scooted over and let him in, and he smelled terrible, like he'd been smoking menthols and drinking gin, and I shoved up against him and he'd already gone out like a light. I don't think he knew what was going on very well and I just, it'd been so long John. So long since he'd hung out with me, and he seemed so close to going fuck, Grimdark even. That's how sad he seemed, and I kind of slipped up close and kissed him.

He responded a little, half asleep and blurry and I pushed and pulled him enough that he rolled to mack out a little. It wasn't bad, he tasted pretty disgusting yeah, but he was warm and soft and I needed something. And of course my fucking hormones took over like an army come to town and I couldn't help myself. I whispered and begged and dropped my voice, and knew something was wrong with everything. I knew I was fucking with him when he was so vulnerable and he acted, like he needed to be touched to be a human being. I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing, and wanted him so bad John, so badly like the sickest beats need a rhyme, and his body was scorching by this point and I... I tricked him John. Into fucking me. Like, seriously. I don't think he even realized what he was doing, just going along with everything. And it hurt a little, but the second I made pained noises he was kissing them away and he was so drunk he couldn't have known who I was, and I know you'd say he did but... shit.

He was tender and gentle and I loved him, and he came in me and I came all over him, and he... passed out, and I cleaned up with whatever was around but not good enough as I figured out from the sound of him waking up and freaking the fuck out with me curled up on his side. And he was so scared so angry, so furious, and then so sorry and so lost. His glasses had gotten lost in the bed, and I saw his eyes and I know that's not as big to you John but shit. They were so scared John, I've never seen my brother scared, never, and he was terrified out of his fucking skull and I did that to him. I broke him when I was supposed to be the one keeping him alive keeping him in tune with the rhythm and the rhyme of the world. He took off, backing away slowly like I was going to attack him or something and kept apologizing and left. A massive hangover I expect, and he hid in the shower and... didn't come out for the longest time. All I could hear was the water, and he was yelling but not quite, just telling himself what a fuckup he was, and I found his glasses, and got dressed and I felt so fucking grungy because no a fucking sock does not clean up the mess we made Egbert and...

I dunno, I felt betrayed because I was the one to break the legendary Strider cool so badly. I was the one who pushed him over, and he was the one suffering. I broke into the bathroom and curled up outside of the tub with his glasses and cried like a fucking baby. He must've heard, like over the water, finally it took a while, before he just kind of slumped half in and half out and put a hand on my head and we stayed like that for hours. I missed school. We didn't talk about it, ever. He started pushing himself away from me, and we stopped talking and started just strifing when we needed to work things out, or being ironic. The Smuppets started invading the whole place instead of staying in his room because, what the hell it's not like I hadn't already had my innocence ruined, and he got... he got to be kind of an asshole. He'd been pretty dorky, but he got cold and hurt whenever he looked at me for a while, and I couldn't breathe, and it hurt like a train slammed into my chest for a while til it evened out and he was still an asshole but kind of talked sometimes, and I dunno.

Maybe that's why he was so fucked up about you, because you were taking his place, and you'd have to deal with all my fucked up issues he _thought_ I had, which I don't by the way. I don't fucking regret it. The only thing I regret his making his eyes look like that. And he's the one who caused these so called issues and maybe he's scared no one but him can fix them, or that I'll spread them, or that you'll find out and take me away from him. But I wanted to do it John. So.. uh... that's the story okay? The whole thing. Mostly, I kind of skimped on details to save you a fuckin' migraine or a stiffy whichever came first.


End file.
